The Unknown Deck
by Irish Story Teller
Summary: An unknown and horrific force is causing terror on the Titanic! Can the crew members unravel the mystery and survive the night let alone the voyage or will they be trapped in a terrible fate?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Titanic characters. They are copyright their respective owners and to history. No money is made off this piece of fan fiction, it is written for entertainment purposes only. All non-Titanic characters are mine and made by me.

 **Author's note:** I've been getting asked about the monster mash up genre recently. There are MANY books out there on the subject and not just including the undead but vampires, ghosts, and everything in-between. You can't throw a stone in any of the writing communities out there and not come across one. So I'm just another drop in the ocean with the monster mash up genre. So all in all this is just an original monster mash up story by yours truly.

 **Chapter One**

 **October 1997**

The rain didn't do much to improve Amy's already bored mood as she lounged on the bed in the guest bedroom. She stared up at the ceiling while wishing her boyfriend Zack was around. Unfortunately he was sick with a sore throat that would most likely be a head cold. Like clockwork he always seemed to get sick with a cold every time this time of year.

Through the door Amy could hear the faint voices of her family members talking in another room about their great-grandparents. She had memories of her great-grandmother, a woman who was from Ireland and came to the States in 1912. She married soon after and had several children who then had children. Her great-grandfather had died a few years before she was born.

Out of boredom Amy sat up and could hear her great-uncle begin to tell some sort of scary story about some big ship and what sounded like the occult and the undead. Great-Uncle Paul was good at making up yarns and even recited some story from Tales from the Dark Side. What was that thing called? The Grither?

Whatever.

Amy shrugged to herself and escaped the confines of the guest bedroom where she could see her mother coming down from the stairs that lead to the attic.

"What's up there?" Amy asked despite already knowing what was up there. Supplies, photographs, and other odds and ends that had belonged to her great-grandparents.

"Your great-grandparent's things," Amy's mother replied. It was hard for her to keep from rolling her eyes at her teenage daughter's sarcasm and demanding of information. The curse of "I hope you have a child as difficult as you" was indeed alive and well.

"I'm going to go up there," Amy said.

"Suit yourself. Just don't make a mess."

"I won't," Amy said sarcastically. She hurried up the steps to get away from the rest of her family. She loved her family but felt as if they couldn't understand her. At least this time they didn't go on about how much Amy looked like her great-grandmother. Other than them both having dark hair and eyes she couldn't see much of a resemblance. Yet, her own great-grandfather also had brown eyes! She could've gotten it from either of them.

Still, what no one knew was just where in England and Ireland they came from. It seemed that there was little to no documentation of them prior to 1912. Records back then weren't nearly as precise or as well documented as they were now. It was possible those records could have been lost or destroyed somewhere.

Amy took one step and then another up the stairs leading to the attic. When she reached the top everything was neatly arranged in certain spots. She could see boxes and chests that she imagined were full of things.

Curiosity began to take hold of Amy as she spotted a leather bound book that sat on top of the chest. She wondered why it was sitting there instead of inside of the chest or box. Her mother had always been so demanding in having all of the antiques kept away safely. She wouldn't just let something sit out in the open like that.

Going to the book Amy carefully sat down on the chest and opened the journal.

The pages had yellowed with age but Amy could still make out the neat writing of her great-grandmother. To Amy's surprise it was actually written in English. Her great-grandmother had preferred to write in her native Irish-Gaelic for personal and important letters and diary entries.

The following is all true though it may be difficult to believe. If I had not witnessed and even engaged in it myself I don't know if I would believe it myself! The entry began.

Amy turned the page as she wondered just what her great-grandmother had written.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **1912**

Sixth Officer James Paul Moody, Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, and Second Officer Charles "Lights" Lightoller all crowded around a window on the bridge to look out over the business on the ship.

"Do you think we'll be seeing the passengers soon?" James asked.

"Soon enough, I'd imagine," Lights said.

Harold grinned, "Are you hoping to see any rich passengers and hoping to hear the latest scandal?"

James smirked despite the light blush that was creeping into his cheeks. "What's wrong with reading the scandal column? It's never boring!"

"I imagine not," Lights chuckled. He looked over his shoulder and quickly tapped the younger men's shoulders, "Someone's coming."

Immediately the trio turned away from the window and separated so they would not appear so cluttered or run the risk of raising the Captain's ire.

"Will!" Charles announced when the figure emerged on the bridge.

First Officer William Murdoch smiled, "Good morning gentlemen."

"Good morning," James and Harold chorused quietly.

"Is there anything exciting taking place?" Will asked.

"No, it's been fairly quiet," Lights said.

"It won't be for too much longer."

"What do you mean?" Harold asked.

"There's some passenger that has higher ups in a tizzy. Mister Andrews would pitch a fit if he knew about these demands!"

"Demands? What demands?" Lights asked.

"There's some First Class passenger who has this gigantic chest that they insist be kept in their cabin. They won't even let the stewards carry it to the cabin."

"Maybe it's full of something valuable…or they could be rather paranoid."

James chuckled, "Of course it could also be something with spiritualism. Isn't that becoming more popular in the Colonies?"

"It comes and goes in phases," Lights answered. "There might be a resurgence somewhere over there."

Harold paused before curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Do you think it might be real? The spiritualism and communicating with the dead?"

"It could be but I'd prefer to see it for myself before believing in it. It's incredibly easy to fake ghost communication."

Lights and Will nodded their agreement.

"In a ship like this we'll find out what it is sooner or later. People can't hold gossip forever," Will said.

"Unfortunately the reality of the situation will most likely be far less exciting than the truth," Lights added.

Below decks many of the crew were rushing from room to room to make sure everything was in top shape for the passengers.

To First Class stewardess Mayda O'Brian it seemed rather silly to set all the tables first thing when nobody would be using them until that evening. Still, it was protocol and needed to be done despite what anyone thought or agreed with.

Mayda also knew to be grateful for the work as she had siblings to help support as the family had lost their parents when Mayda was young.

Working as a stewardess was hard work but she was grateful to have it. Not everyone was so lucky.

She carefully set another glass against the crisp white fabric of the table cloth. Each glass looked so expensive and carefully cut and engraved. Even the utensils had been carefully made and etched.

Mayda knew that she had never seen let alone touched such finery before. She did wonder what the first class passengers would think about it. Would the wealthy be happy with it or bitterly complain that it was not extravagant enough for their wealthy tastes.

"Mayda darling!" A fellow stewardess called out a bit too loudly to her.

Mayda turned to see Charlotte, a pretty and lively blonde woman with large blue-green eyes. Charlotte had a habit of calling her fellow stewardesses by their first names followed by "darling". Charlotte half trotted over to her and stopped in front of the chair.

"Mayda darling, you've set the utensils backwards!" Charlotte said.

Mayda looked down at the table and turned bright red. Oh, the curse of being left handed in a right handed world!

"Don't worry, I'll help you set it right," Charlotte reassured her.

"Set it right? Was that a bad pun?" Mayda asked with a bit of a smirk.

"It wasn't meant to be but I like it!"

Chuckling and shaking her head Mayda began to carefully reset each table setting.

The pair worked briefly in silence until Charlotte spoke again, "Have you met the officers?"

"Not yet, but I have met Captain Smith."

"Yes, I've heard he's retiring after this voyage."

"It's quite the way to end your career."

The two continued to chat until the subject of the passengers came up.

"There's some passengers with a big chest. They're not letting anyone else touch it," Charlotte said.

"How did you find that out?" Mayda asked.

"There's so much talk about it below decks. It's not every day you hear about something like that."

Mayda nodded, "It's probably nothing, just someone who is worried about something going missing. Some people are worried that way."

"Yes, I suppose so," Charlotte said and straightened. "Well, that's that! Off to a new task!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** I've been getting asked about the monster mash up genre recently. There are MANY books out there on the subject and not just including the undead but vampires, ghosts, and everything in-between. You can't throw a stone in any of the writing communities out there and not come across one. So I'm just another drop in the ocean with the monster mash up genre. So all in all this is just an original monster mash up story by yours truly.

 **Second author's note:** I've also taken the liberty of saving all the anon reviews, false accusations, and reporting them to the necessary sources as needed. One does not "own" a genre. If one did then there would be no romance, humor, drama, or mash ups other than by that one author. The negative reviews and comments have also had a very beneficial source as my friends and others have been asking me to continue the story as they wish to read it and see where it goes. It has given me far more popularity story wise than I would have ever imagined. As the anon reviewer(s) refuse to give their name(s) so I cannot thank them by name I am forced to give my thanks for the extra attention you have drummed up for me. No passive-aggressiveness or snark intended but I do hope you have a nice day. It really is a beautiful world out there.

 **Chapter Three**

One of the crew members sent to greet the first class passengers was surprised to see two rather large men carrying a heavy looking trunk as they walked up the narrow plank. For a moment the crew member wanted to cry out to them for fear they could topple over and the trunk would be left for sunken treasure. He managed to refrain from doing so by catching the look of one of his superiors.

The burlier of the two men stood in the front with his arms painfully stretched behind his back. The other stood with his arms in front of him. This confused the crew member as surely it would have been easier to have one of the men walking backwards and not have to worry about straining his shoulders so much. The crew member knew standing in such a position would not be comfortable for very long and he couldn't imagine walking for an extended period of time like that.

When the two came into closer view it gave the crew member a chance to get a better look at it.

The chest itself was very plain, it looked to be made of wood that had been sanded and maybe only varnished once if it were lucky. The corners were covered in thick and badly tarnished brass. If the chest could be saved or even brought into any sort of magnificence the crew member couldn't say. However, he could say that his mother would have fainted dead away at such an unsightly piece of furniture.

"Ummm…can we help you with that?" The crew member politely asked. Privately he had hoped they would say "no" as he was fairly confident he did not want to touch such a thing.

The two men ignored him and continued only as a woman instructed them. The woman's clothing reminded the crew member of that postcard that came out last year that talked about a speed limit skirt. Though he couldn't remember all the details of the postcard but the dress looked very similar to him.

Like many other dresses the neckline was scooped and the rest filled in with acres of fancy handmade lace. How many lace makers went blind making the lace for that dress? The crew member was forced to wonder.

The rest of the dress itself was made from a lilac colored silk and trimmed with dark velvet around the neckline and the sleeve cuffs. Thick velvet fabric accented her narrow waist line and another strip of velvet wrapped around the skirt at the knees.

The crew member was forced to wonder just how the woman was able to walk let alone climb up or down any stairs? How could someone have done that? Hopped up the steps and hoped for the best? That certainly couldn't be very ladylike or proper.

Despite what he had thought he struggled hard not to laugh at the mental image of wealthy woman hopping up and down stairs flooded his mind. He pressed his hand hard against his mouth to stifle an unprofessional like giggle but it came out his nose as a snort.

He looked over his hands to see the disapproving glare of his fellow crew members. He quickly looked down as he worked hard at restraining himself from laughing.

It was about then he was able to get a better look at the passengers he was surprised to see the backs of the two large men. They certainly moved quickly for carrying something so heavy! What surprised him more was that they made no sounds when moving the trunk. Before the crew member hadn't been paying attention to them so he hadn't noticed that they were not grunting or speaking. In fact, he hadn't even paid any attention to hear if he could hear their footsteps.

The woman handed one of the attendants her ticket with barely a word.

"Thank you, welcome to Titanic," the attendant said.

The crew member said nothing but knew the lines were carefully rehearsed. He wondered if the attendant wanted some water or tea after all of this. It could be easy for someone to go into a coughing fit after doing so much talking.

Before the woman could leave the attendant once again spoke, "Do you need anyone to carry your bags to your cabin?"

The woman spoke in an accent that could cut glass and even her voice sounded harsh, "No, thank you. We are fine."

The crew member took the moment to look at the woman. She was rather attractive with auburn hair stylishly arranged and piercing brown eyes. Her skin was so light it could almost be described as translucent. She was quite thin and about average height. It was clear to the crew member that this woman had not worked a day in her life and odds are she wasn't about to start anytime soon.

For as attractive as she was there was something about her that made the crew member want to run away while screaming for help. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about this stranger that was downright frightening.

The woman glided away from the attendant and the crew. In the distance she could be heard speaking to the two large men and the words "Lock the doors and make sure nobody gets in" was the last anyone heard of them for that time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The crew member was soon distracted from his curiosity as to what those words meant when he was soon greeted with another group of passengers. He could see a man pushing thirty in a brown suit alongside a young woman in a pinstripe dress.

"Yes, Missus DeWitt Bukater," the attendant said cheerfully. "We have everything prepared for you."

"Thank you," Ruth DeWitt Bukater replied and quietly spoke with the attendant for a few more minutes.

The crewmember noticed the man in the brown suit looked rather impressed with the grandeur of the ship while the woman looked less than pleased. In fact she looked downright miserable.

"Rose," Ruth said.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Come this way, we mustn't block the hallway."

If the crew member could say one thing it would be each voyage was certainly different! No two were ever the same.

Moving from one cabin to the other Mayda soon encountered the DeWitt Bukaters. She was surprised by how many people were already inside the cabin. Were all these people servants? That couldn't be possible!

For a moment she didn't know what to do as she was not very comfortable in large crowds. A young woman in dark blue caught sight of her and motioned for her to come over. Grateful for any type of guidance Mayda hurried to do so.

The stewardess entered another room and came into contact with an older woman dressed in dark green. Mayda quickly curtsied and introduced herself as one of the First Class stewardesses.

"If it's not me then it should be one of the others," she quickly added in her noticeable Irish accent. Mayda was careful in choosing each of her words and making sure to pronounce them correctly. It had only been recently that she had learned English and still preferred her native Irish. At least her native language made sense! English was a very complicated language to learn to communicate in.

"Yes, thank you," Ruth said.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No, that should be all."

Mayda quickly curtsied again and began to walk out of the room when a young woman carrying a large painting brushed by her with such force and speed she could've easily been knocked over.

"Rose! You must be more careful!" Ruth scolded her daughter.

Rose gave Mayda a quick apology before moving away with the painting.

It didn't take long for Mayda's brown eyes to take notice of the movement or the colors used. "Oh! That's that new painter! The cubist! Oh, what's his name…?"

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Rose's pretty face. "Picasso, I believe."

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. Good day."

"Good day."

Hitching up her skirts enough so that she could walk without tripping Mayda hurried out of the room. Unfamiliar voices followed her until she closed the door and departed from their world. Seeing the wealthy was always a unique experience but she was grateful not to be a part of that lifestyle. It would be too much like living in a fish bowl with everyone watching you and waiting to gossip.

She did suspect Officer James Moody would soon be asking her and anyone else who worked in First Class for any gossip or scandal. She had been warned ahead of time that Mister Moody was fascinated with such stories and news.

He certainly couldn't be the only one who was interested in such matters in society but he certainly was one of the more vocal ones. It was rather comical in a way to see such a handsome and dignified man suddenly become fascinated and eager to learn of any news.

Turning she walked away from the door and down the hallway where muffled voices could be heard. At first it seemed like someone was reading some sort of horror story as she could make out a few words about the New World and a larger place to practice.

Practice what? Mayda wondered. Were they trying to escape religious persecution? If that was the case then she could understand that with her being a Catholic and working in a seemingly Protestant and unwelcoming world.

Despite knowing the kind of trouble she could get into for eaves dropping Mayda's curiosity began to get the better of her. She crept forward as quietly as she could while also trying to stay far enough away that no one would suspect she was trying to listen in on a conversation. The books made the action sound so easy!

Mayda continued to inch forward while keeping her hand raised as if she were about to knock on the door.

"We can't let anyone know what we're doing or let them inside this cabin!" A man's voice harshly said.

"What are we going to do if they do?" Another man's voice asked.

"Let's just hope they aren't someone important," a woman answered. "Why did we have to board the _Titanic_? Surely it would be easier to board other ships! Ones that were not nearly as well-known as this one!"

One of the men mumbled something that Mayda strained to hear. She could almost make it out when she felt a strong hand land on her shoulder.

The action alone made her violently jerk away from the hand's grasp. Mayda tried to scream but between surprise and fear no sound other than a squeak would come out.

When her moment of terror ended she looked up to see the surprised face of Thomas Andrews. He was holding one hand up in a gesture of surrender and holding his walking stick in the other.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Mister Andrews quickly said. "Are you alright?"

Taking in a deep breath Mayda managed to nod and forced a small smile on her face. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no," the Irishwoman began to bluff. "I was going to knock on this door and ask them if I could help them when I heard voices."

"I see, carry on then."

Privately Mayda worried she really would have to knock on the door to see who was on the other side to see if they needed anything. It was a task that she really did not want to do.

Under Mister Andrews' careful and watchful eye Mayda raised her hand to knock on the door when it swung open.

"Oh!"

The woman in the lilac silk dress looked Mayda over disapprovingly.

Quickly regaining what remained of her composure and dignity Mayda gave a quick curtsy, "Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"No, thank you," the woman said coldly. She shut the door behind her firmly and walked away without greeting Mister Andrews or looking back.

"Oh my, that was…an unfortunate encounter," was all the ship builder could say.


End file.
